


Sweet Cherry Pie

by keiti221



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abuse, Also..., Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blackmail, Blow Jobs, Death Threats, Detectives, Dredging Up The Past, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Injury Recovery, Kidnapping, Lotor has a thing for Keith, Lotor is a drug lord looking to take over and he's not nice about it, M/M, Murder, Non-Consensual Touching, Rimming, Sex Work, Stalking, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, and it's definitely one sided
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-04-23 16:16:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14336274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keiti221/pseuds/keiti221
Summary: After Keith shows up to perform at an event that didn't actually want a male stripper, he spends the evening sipping wine coolers with the hottest detective he's ever gotten his hands on. Unfortunately, neither of them have been particularly good at relationships - Shiro is always busy with work and Keith keeps attracting weirdos - but both want to make this one work. So what could possibly go wrong?





	1. Pour Some Sugar on Me

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a lot longer than I initially planned - but it feels good to have a fic I'm interested in again. Also, it's good to be back in modern au form, because I feel like that's what I do best. Anyhow, this fic is currently my love child - feel free to validate me and my bad taste.
> 
> And while I know it's been a few empty months, the kudos and comments on old stuff keep rolling in, so I gotta say thank you to everyone who drops by and likes my writing. You guys really know how to keep an author going!

Shiro rubs his hands together, wondering why now, of all the times he’s been faced with something stressful, they sweat. He wipes them on his jeans and picks up his cell, dialing the number written on a napkin, courtesy of Hunk. The phone trills for a few seconds before a gruff voice answers.

“Tito’s Titty Bar, Tito speaking.”

“Oh, hello. I was calling to inquire about having a stripper come to my friend’s bachelor party.” He cringes at his own formality, internally swearing at Hunk for not doing the deed himself.

“You want to rent a stripper, when and for how long?”

Shiro glances down at his notes. “Two Fridays from now – 6:30 to 8:30. So two hours.”

“We have plenty available then. You have a preference for what they look like?”

He stares at the notes again. “Just the prettiest stripper you have.”

“Mkay.”

Shiro swears he hears the snap of bubble gum before the man continues.

“We’ll need a credit card and my employee will I.D. you at the end of their stay. We’ve had bad instances so we have to crack down, unless of course you choose to pay cash on the day of service.” He pauses, humming in thought. “Oh. I forgot. Gender?”

Frowning, Shiro feels confused. “Uhh, male. I thought that would be obvious.”

Tito snorts. “Hey, buddy, I try not to make assumptions about people. It’s bad for business.”

 

Running through a list in his head, Shiro frantically arranges for Lance’s bachelor party. The snacks are out – the catering will arrive at a quarter to seven – the G-string streamers are up, the boob balloons keep rolling around his living room, and the ‘cake’ cake is chilling in the fridge. He sits down in his recliner and sighs, feeling overwhelmed by the event and abundance of heterosexuality.

Hunk has Lance distracted for the day while Shiro preps. Pidge took Allura out for her own night, and with only ten out of twenty-five people having RSVPed, Shiro prays that the ladies are having a better evening.

Shiro checks his watch, and just as he registers the hands reading 6:23, the doorbell rings. Hauling himself up, he meanders to the foyer, leaning against the wall to peek outside. He crooks an eyebrow at the man clad in a black trench coat standing on his porch, unable to divorce the questionable attire from the man’s beautiful face.

“Can I help you?”

The man checks his phone. “I know I’m a couple minutes early, but you booked a stripper for 6:30, right?” He glances at his phone again. “Takashi Shirogane?”

Shiro flushes, suddenly worried. “Yeah, you have the right place. Are you her chauffer or something?”

Wide eyed, it’s the man’s turn to blush. “You wanted a woman?”

“Well, yeah. I called Tito’s Titty Bar, expecting a woman for my friend’s bachelor party.”

The guy fidgets and pulls his phone back out of his pocket, frantically dialing. “Could you hold on a second?”

Shiro nods and opens the door a little more, waiting for his pulse to drop.

“Tito, hey, it’s Keith. - - No, No, everything is fine with me. It’s just this client wanted a lady.” He frowns and bites his lip. “Well did you ask what gender of stripper he wanted? - - That’s-” He grumbles, “You need to ask that while you’re asking about look preferences. - - Is Stacy working tonight? - - Can you send her instead?” The guy chews his cheek and folds his arm across his stomach. “That’s great. So can I take her place on the sta-.” He flinches. “I get that Tito, but I need the money.” He turns his shoulder to Shiro, lowering his voice. “ _Please_. Rent is due Monday and if I’m late again, I’ll be evicted. - - I _know_ male strippers make less money, but - - Tito there’s only so much I can do.” He sighs, “Just send Stacy. I’ll take the night off, I guess.”

The young man jabs the end call button before meeting Shiro’s gaze with a tired expression. “I’m sorry about the confusion. Tito’s sending one of the best. She’ll probably be here in about fifteen minutes, if that’s okay?”

“That’s fine.” Shiro clears his throat, aware of the flush still sitting high on his cheeks. “If you want to stay, I have enough money to pay both of you.”

“Really? A-Are you sure?”

Shiro offers a warm smile. “I mean yeah. There’s so much straight nonsense going on for this party, that I might need a lap dance to keep me from losing my mind.” He snickers at his own joke before jutting out a hand. “You can call me Shiro.”

“Keith.”

Closing the door, Shiro reaches for his lukewarm wine cooler. “Is that your stage name?”

Laughing, Keith shakes his head. “No. Depending on the night and outfit, I’m Cherry, Red, or Kinkeith.”

“Kinkeith. Like a play on kinky?”

He nods and gestures to Shiro’s drink. “If I’m not going to be dry humping anyone tonight, you mind if I have one of those?”

Shiro shrugs. “Have whatever you want, man. I definitely over ordered on catering, so if you stay til after ten, you can probably take a tray of mini chimis home.”

 

Stacy shows up right after Lance, but thanks to Hunk being an excellent hype man – he loses no steam over it and enjoys the show anyhow. Shiro exhales his stress, and when fifteen other guys show up, a handful more than expected, he stuffs himself in the corner with his own six pack of piña colada wine coolers. As expected, and thank God for him, Hunk takes the reigns as Shiro slowly unravels his sobriety.

Keith, with three watermelon coolers in hand, plops down beside him, wedging himself up against Shiro’s side and humming. “You have biiig biceps.”

Shiro laughs at the comment, realizing Keith is already four drinks in. He flexes for show and Keith giggles. The response floors Shiro’s tipsy ass, and he rests his hand on the inside of Keith’s knee.

“How bendable are you?”

Keith’s already ruddy face flushes deeper and he drops his collection of chilled bottles to between his legs. “I-I-” He fumbles for the one open bottle, spilling a little on his leather pants and bringing it to his mouth with a trembling hand.

Before Shiro can even ask if he’s okay, Keith is reaching for him, scrambling onto Shiro’s lap as his mouth connects with the corner of Shiro’s throat. The wine coolers put Shiro’s mind on auto pilot, and he immediately reaches for Keith in return.

Between the feverish skin under Shiro’s hand and the taste on Keith’s tongue, the kiss feels like a summer’s day on the beach and Shiro digs it. He juts his jaw forward, deepening the kiss and Keith grabs a fistful of his hair, holding Shiro in place. There might have been a wolf whistle or two behind the swimming in his head, but Shiro focuses on Keith – the way their lips part and he pants before rushing back for another taste of a damn perfect stranger.


	2. Don't Cha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is still kicking! I know it's been a while, so without further ado ~ a long awaited update.

Shiro wakes up, face down on his couch, foot hanging off the edge and getting more and more numb as the seconds pass. He groans and shoves up, glancing around his trashed living room. The clock looks like it might have broken at 10:47 pm, but the sun pouring in through his skylight tells him otherwise. To his left, laid flat in the recliner is Keith – to his right are his leather pants and mesh top.

Staring down at his fully clothed body, he wonders what could have happened after the alcohol hit his metabolism. An ache in his jaw suggests Keith got all the goods, but the indigestion in his chest claims he binged mini chimis. Grumbling his way into an upright position, Shiro exhales slowly, head spinning and stomach churning. Trying not to jar his body too much, he stamps his foot against the ground, desperate to wake it up before attempting to move.

With full sensation back in all of his limbs, Shiro ambles toward the fridge, opening it to find aluminum boxes filled with leftovers. He makes a promise under his breath to kiss Hunk the next time he sees him.

Wandering into his guest room, Shiro finds the last of the party. Lance is sound asleep, plastered to Hunk’s side, with a visible collection of drool rolling off his forearm. Deciding to let the two of them rest, still grateful for Hunk’s handiwork, Shiro backs out of the room and shuts the door quietly.

Back in the living room, Shiro finds Keith sitting up with his head in his hands. He grabs a water bottle from the fridge and a couple of ibuprofen, offering them to the dazed man.

“Wine coolers will bite you in the ass if you lose count.”

Keith takes the water and exhales slowly, trying to brace himself for the medicine’s journey past his oversensitive gag reflex. “I always forget that rule. They just taste so good.”

Shiro clicks open a drawer by the front door and pulls out a wad of money. He sits back down on the couch, setting it on the coffee table in front of Keith.

Choking back water, Keith frowns at the gesture. “What’s that for?”

“I told you last night I’d pay for both you and the other stripper that ended up coming. This is me making good on that.”

A flush forces it’s way onto Keith’s face as he sighs, “I don’t kiss and cash out.” He watches confusion settle over Shiro before explaining. “We made out last night? I sat on your lap and sucked a hickey into your neck. That’s hardly what I call professional behavior worthy of payment.”

Shiro reflexively touches his neck, thumb brushing over a puffed up and sensitive spot near his clavicle. He reddens. “Well, actions aside. I promised you to pay for both of your times. It doesn’t seem fair that you lost out on a job because I didn’t specify a female stripper.”

“Look, I’ll cope, but I won’t have you paying for something that would mean I was borderline whoring myself out.” He bites his lip. “It’s just not who I am.”

“You don’t usually make out with clients?”

Keith chuckles, “Actually, I’ve _never_ made out with a client before. So keep your money so I can keep my reputation intact.”

Shiro sighs, “Fine. But only because I know how hard it is to build a good reputation.”

Standing, Keith tugs on his pants, sticks his shirt in his pocket, and dons his trench coat. “I should get home. Need to work tonight and it’s probably best if I don’t smell like fake watermelon and your cologne.”

 

It takes a while for Shiro to function after Keith leaves. Still a little hungover and lost in thought, he rolls around the idea of visiting the club in person. God knows Lance would love to visit. He wonders if he could convince Hunk to tag along as well.

He knocks on the spare bedroom door, waiting for a response before stepping in. Hunk gives him a wide grin and jostles Lance awake.

Lance rubs his eyes, yawning, “What brings the party master to us?”

Shiro laughs and leans against the door frame. “That title officially belongs to Hunk. But I was wondering if you guys wanted to go to an actual strip club tonight.”

Lance perks up, but Hunk remains incredulous, his tone suspicious. “Now why would we do that?”

Despite the tease of a hangover still gnawing at the back of his head, Shiro’s quick to answer. “I thought it could be fun if we had a wedding sendoff for both Allura and Lance at the club. That way we could celebrate with all of our friends regardless of gender.”

Hunk raises an eyebrow. “Oh really. And this has nothing to do with that guy who found out you were an LAPD detective and drunkenly asked you to handcuff him to your bed?”

Shiro’s cheeks flame. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course not. Well, I guess we could give the girls a call and see what they say about it.”

 

Someone on the girls’ end agrees, and Shiro has never been more thankful for a seemingly innocent night out drinking. Though, his true motivations don’t stay secret for long.

The second he acclimates to the pounding music and ethereal glow of the club, his eyes catch a shimmering body on one of the stages. The place is divided into sections – a stage for female dancers, a stage for male dancers, and a main center stage for special events. Shiro gravitates toward the left most stage, eyes trained on a LED banner reading “A SALUTE TO UNIFORMED MEN”.

Already in the process of stripping, the dancers are already in various states of undress – some still in full mock uniforms while some are down to the scantily clad versions of said attire. The man dancing under the spotlight has tiny navy blue shorts, a tie, and what he assumes to be a police hat. The others parade around as army men, sailors, and even a few doctors.

None are able to keep his attention until Keith breaks from the group and shimmies over to a wing of the stage. Shiro’s heart stutters at the sight of Keith’s hose. A fake fire hose wrapped diagonally around his chest to be exact. Aside from that, Keith wears only skimpy black shorts – small enough to see the swell of his ass – and the boots of a fire fighter.

Shiro stands back, watching from a distance, not wanting to crowd the stage like other patrons, but when a pretty blond stuffs a bill down the front of Keith’s shorts, jealousy wraps its tendrils around Shiro’s heart and tugs him toward the flashing lights. A few men have jumped off the stage, done with their routine, and dance in the aisles, beckoning more customers to spend their money. When Keith makes eye contact with Shiro, he does the same.

He drops to the floor, grinding against Shiro’s leg as he stands to his full height. “What a coincidence. It’s the man that stuck his tongue down my throat yesterday.”

Cheeks as red as the stripes on Keith’s prop hose, Shiro attempts to make light conversation. “Y-Yeah. Figured a night out as a whole wedding party could be fun.”

Keith breaks off for a moment to flirt with a few ladies before coming back to shove Shiro down into a folding chair, settling his knee between Shiro’s thighs. “And where is the rest of this wedding party?”

Shiro looks around wildly – Pidge is with Hunk and Lance watching the women perform and Allura is buying a trayful of drinks. “They’re around. Prefer the girls, I guess.”

Laughing, Keith winks at an older lady across the aisle and saunters over to her, allowing Shiro to stew before he returns with a few more bills at his hip. He brushes back Shiro’s bangs and smirks. “How do you like the show?”

A bit irritated by the trembling in his hands, Shiro grabs a handful of cash from his pocket. “It’s great.” He holds the money out to Keith. “Nice job.”

“Is this your first time at a strip club?” Keith pats his waist. “Gotta go in the shorts.”

Shiro stares blankly for a moment. “I?”

“Uh huh...”

“Touch you. Shove the money...” His eyes drop to Keith’s hand.

Keith snaps the waistband. “They’re not spandex for nothing.”

With a sigh, Shiro leans forward, stretching the side of Keith’s shorts out and gently tucking the bills inside. Keith grins and begins to say something, but the music changes and he steps back.

“That’s my cue.”

The show ends with a small dance number and the men gesturing lewdly before hurrying off stage. The lights go down and crew come out to gather the abandoned costume pieces moments later. Shiro figures it’s a good of time as any to grab a drink and find his friends.

He doesn’t get that far. The bar is crowded and before he can place his order, a strong hand pulls him away. Despite skin tight shorts and a sparkling spandex top to match, Keith looks deadly serious when he hauls Shiro to an unoccupied corner of the barroom.

“I found four one hundred dollar bills in my shorts.” He narrows his eyes. “Was that you?”

Shiro tries to play it off cool. “I had it laying around.”

Keith smacks his chest. “I told you I don’t take money for kissing guys I like!”

Shiro can’t help his dumbstruck grin. “You like me?”

“Not right now. I won’t break my code.”

“You don’t have to. I paid you for a different performance. One where you _didn’t_ kiss me.”

Staring at the money in his hand, Keith thumbs the bills and sighs, “Fine. But you only get to use that loophole once.”

“Does that mean I’m allowed to come back here?”

“Not if you want to spend money on me outside of stripping.” Keith chews the corner of his lip, taking a step back. “I’m off in an hour. Will you buy me dinner?”

Shiro’s eagerness gets the best of him, and his words sound more confident than he feels, “Depends on if it’s a date.”

Keith tucks the money into his waistband and smirks. “One hour. I like burgers.” He turns a heel and saunters off, knowing Shiro’s eyes are on him the whole time.


	3. Fire Burning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys love this story as much as I do.

Lance doesn’t take the news of Shiro’s date well. “You picked up a guy at a _strip club_. And you’re ditching all of your friends for him? C’mon man.”

Shiro groans, “It’s in an hour! Are you really saying you’ll all still be here in an hour?”

The group looks amongst themselves, shrugging.

Hunk speaks up, “I guess not. But since is supposed to be a friend night, there will need to be a mandatory date description in the group chat when you’re done tonight. Deal?”

“I can make peace with that.”

 

When an hour is up, Keith emerges from the back of the club, dressed in black jeans, a black shirt, and a red leather jacket. Shiro isn’t sure what he expected, but the attire makes him swoon.

“Glad you’re still here.”

“Do you really think I’d ditch you?”

“I had a cop pretend to date me to see if he could catch me on prostitution charges, so let’s just say I didn’t have high expectations.”

Shiro’s eyebrows nearly shoot off his forehead. “You’ll have to tell me about that one.”

Keith grumbles, following Shiro out the side exit. “Nothing to tell. It lasted two weeks because I found out he was a lying hetero bitch.”

“Wouldn’t kiss you?”

“He could have at least stuck to the role he chose.” Keith shakes his head. “I don’t want to ruin a nice night. Okay?”

“Got it.” Shiro stops short on the side of the club, fishing for his keys.

“Uhh, Shiro? The parking lot is in the back.”

“Yeah, I know. I parked over here.” He turns his phone’s flashlight on and directs it to an empty wall, revealing a black Harley parked in the shadows.

Keith steps forward. “No way. That’s yours?”

Shiro smirks. “It is. Do you like it?”

Eyes wide, Keith pets the shiny paint job, grinning for all he’s worth. “I love it. My dad used to customize Harleys. He always promised me one when I got old enough.”

“So you have one of your own?”

Hesitating, Keith draws his hand back. “No. He died before I turned sixteen. I know nothing about fixing bikes so the junker he bought me still sits in my mom’s garage. She keeps it for sentimental sake.” He clears his throat. “Anyway. I hope you have another helmet because there’s no way I’m getting on without one.”

Pulling the storage compartments open, Shiro hands Keith a helmet and shoves his on. “The last thing I need in my life is to be pulled over by a co-worker for not following regulations.”

Shiro sits on the bike, and Keith quickly follows suit. “So where are we going?”

“You’ll see when we get there.”

 

The diner sits against the quiet night sky, so outstandingly garish. A beacon of neon lights and reflective silver plating, it’s hard to miss from the road. The other guests are a medley of travelers, truckers, and a few stoned occupants. The hostess sticks them in the back corner of the restaurant, to Shiro’s relief. The rest of the customers are relatively quiet, and he’d hate to be the odd man out by being the loudest for once in his life.

Keith slides into the curved booth first, stopping when he’s smack dab in the middle. Shiro lifts an eyebrow at the choice, but follows his lead from the other side, scooting toward the center.

Making a humming noise that sounds suspiciously happy, Keith grins. “This is cozy.”

“We have four feet of extra seating if you want to move.”

He shakes his head, picking up the menu. “I think I’m good here.”

Shiro proceeds to do the same, but his process of selection is interrupted by a few sideways glances. He sets the menu down, leaning back against the booth and putting his arm over the top of the seat. “You know, you should probably look at the menu to order and not at me.”

“Yeah, in a second.”

“Something more pressing at hand?”

“I can’t figure you out.”

Frowning, Shiro recoils a little. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Keith picks at the curled edge of the menu, not meeting Shiro’s eyes as he rambles. “Well, you’re a detective. Which means you could be like the last cop I dated and trying to bust me for things I haven’t done. But no straight guy kisses another man like you did last night unless they’re getting paid a lot of money for it. So I figure you have to at least be gay. But if that’s the case, why be interested in me? Whether we want to admit it or not, there’s a hierarchy of careers and mine is leaps and bounds lower than yours – especially to the people you probably associate yourself with. And if you associate with the types of people I think you do, then they’re going to question you and think your choices are dumb because you’re dating a guy who takes his clothes off for a living. And that’s gonna aff-”

“Keith.”

He looks up, biting his lip.

“Don’t worry about it. Besides, you’re too gorgeous for me to care what others think.”

Keith’s expression falls. “You only said yes because you think I’m hot?”

“I agreed to go out with you, because I want to get to know you.” A blush crosses Shiro’s face. “Yes, you’re stunning, but you’re also a spitfire and every little thing I’ve learned about you in the past 24 hours has me wanting more. There’s no way I couldn’t be interested in you.”

A smile breaks onto Keith’s face, and he bumps Shiro gently with his elbow. “I like you too.”

 

To Shiro’s surprise, Keith puts away a burger that looks to weigh as much as he does. Piled with bacon, fried onions, extra cheese, two patties, and a slathering of barbeque sauce, the burger, accompanied by fries, looks like something Shiro could barely finish, even after a long shift. But Keith, astonishing even at the dinner table, devours the contents of his plate, plus a chocolate shake, three cokes, and a slice of red velvet cake.

A little wide eyed, Shiro absentmindedly forks at his carrot cake while watching Keith scrape the last of the frosting off his plate – slightly terrified but wholly impressed.

Sucking down a quarter of his forth coke, Keith glances at Shiro, eying his plate. “Is your cake bad or something?”

“No, no. I’m just a little full.”

Keith snorts. “You had a Rueben and didn’t even finish your fries.”

He can’t fathom the lie, but it falls out of his mouth anyway. “My friends and I ate before going to the club.”

Nodding, Keith sticks his pinky out and swipes a dollop of cream cheese frosting from Shiro’s cake. When it emerges from his mouth, shiny and wet, Shiro bats away thoughts better suited for the bedroom than dinner conversation.

He clears his throat. “So what do you usually do after a shift?”

Keith stretches and laughs, “What, you don’t think I have a habit of getting club patrons to buy me dinner?”

Shiro’s stomach sinks at that. It never crossed his mind.

“Hey.” Keith’s voice is soft, “I didn’t mean that.” He puts his hand on top of Shiro’s and scoots closer. “To be honest. I don’t really have that much of a life outside of work. The most exciting thing I do is grocery shop at 2 am.”

Perking up, Shiro manages a smile. “That sounds pretty fun.”

“Slow your roll. That kind of radical fun waits until we’re going steady.”

“And how many dates does that take?”

“About five.” He swipes another pinky full of frosting. “But I guess it depends on how much I like you.”

 

The drive back to the club is short, and Shiro feels like he should be grateful because of the early spring chill latching onto his bones, but the warm body pressed against his back could sustain him for hours. Keith makes a habit out of reading signs at stoplights – his laughter at cheesy slogans thrills something inside Shiro that hasn’t stirred in a while. Shiro contemplates a detour across the state instead of the next left that’ll take them to their destination.

He kills the engine and waits as Keith pulls off the spare helmet. He’s surprised when Keith speaks first.

“Do you always have that?”

“The spare? Yeah. Never know when I’ll need it. Why?”

Keith shrugs. “I don’t know. Just thinking if you’re not busy on Tuesday...” He trails off, eyes studying the bike’s wheels. “Maybe you could pick me up for another date?”

Shiro’s heart breaks a little. “I have work. And with my job, you never know how late you’ll be staying.”

Setting the helmet down, Keith folds his arms over his stomach. “I get it.” He chews his lip and sighs, “Well, let me know if things clear up.”

Keith plants a kiss on Shiro’s cheek and gets in his car. Only while he’s driving away does Shiro realize he doesn’t have Keith’s number.


	4. Crazy Little Thing Called Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo.. it's been a few months. That must be my thing™ by now. Anyhow, I hope I can earn forgiveness through the form of an extra long chapter. Enjoy!

Tuesday drags on. By mid-afternoon, Shiro gets stir crazy while filling out paperwork. He rushes through it and gives it a blind once over before printing it and practically throwing it on his captain’s desk.

“I’m going on patrol.”

Allura’s delicately painted fingernails stop clacking on her keyboard, and she looks up over her monitor, eyebrow raised. “Funny, that’s not on your schedule.”

“I finished all my paperwork. There’s nothing left to do.” He shuffles a few feet back. “I’ll have Hunk clock me out at five. Okay?”

“Shiro, let me make this clear. Just because we’re friends outside of the office, doesn’t mean you’re allowed to get away with ditching work.”

He begins to protest, but she cuts him off. “You’ll be back by five to clock out _yourself_.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Shiro turns a heel and hurries back to his desk, grabbing his jacket on his way to the door. He heads out to the lot and trades his keys for those of a patrol vehicle. A little embarrassed by his eagerness, Shiro drives straight to Tito’s.

He parks out front, strolling into the front entrance with as much calm as he can muster. Tito greets him three steps in.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah, I was looking for a dancer you have. His name is Keith. Black hair, indigo eyes?” He holds his hand up to his shoulder, “Yea high?”

Tito crosses his arms. “Listen buddy, I don’t give out the information of my dancers to creeps who come in lookin’ to harass them.”

Shiro pulls his badge off his hip. “I need to speak to him.”

Eyes wide, Tito mutters, “Oh shit.” He walks to the hostess table and pulls out a book. “He’s not working tonight.”

“Does he have a cell phone or something?” Shiro toughens his voice, “The longer this waits, the worse it is for him.” He internally kicks himself. If Allura ever catches wind of this, she’s gonna raze him.

Tito scratches a number down and hands it to Shiro. “Is he in legal trouble?”

Shiro picks at the edge of the card. “No. He submitted a report and, before I can officially turn it in, I need to talk to him about what he wrote.” He lifts a hand. “Thank you.”

He climbs into his patrol car with a huff. “I can’t believe he bought that.” Shiro pulls out his phone and punches in Keith’s number, chest tight as it rings.

The voice on the other end is groggy. “Hello?”

“Is this Keith?”

“Yeah, who is this?”

“Hi Keith, it’s Shiro. How are you?”

His voice brightens up, “Hey. I’m fine. Just waking up. How’d you get my number?”

Shiro chuckles to hide his shame, “Well, I might have lied to your boss to get it. Said it was police business.”

Keith lets out a peel of laughter. “You do that with all the guys you date?”

“Just the ones that tell me to call them without giving me a number.”

“Oh.” There’s meowing in the background’s silence as Keith pieces together his words. “Sorry about that. I guess I didn’t even think about it. But you have it now...” He trails off. “So, why’d you call?”

Shiro blushes, chagrined by his own sheepishness. “I’m free tonight. Wondered if you were still up for a second date?”

Keith’s tone changes; his voice sounds softer. “Yeah. I’d love that. What do you have in mind?”

 

They end up at a pizza joint recommended to Shiro by Hunk. Seated immediately, Keith sits across from Shiro, smiling at him between glances at his menu.

“Is this a habit of yours? Looking at me instead of your food options?”

“I can’t help it. You react so naturally.”

Shiro sets his menu down. “What does that mean?”

Keith balls up his straw wrapper and rolls it between his fingers. “I don’t know. It’s just. Working a job that is supposed to make others feel good, regardless of how I feel? Makes me callous, I guess. Can’t look miserable on stage and can’t wear my emotions on my face when someone gets too grabby or they’ll get upset. It gets taxing.”

“Does talking about it help?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Keith leans back, glancing out the window, accidentally catching the stare of someone peeking in on the restaurant. The man smiles at him, and Keith drops his eyes to the table, stomach churning.

“Something wrong?”

“No. I just caught someone’s line of sight. Awkward you know?” He shifts his rolled silverware and forces a smile. “You ever get people watching you? Like they know what you do for a living and don’t like you because of it?”

“I’ve had ex-cons I’ve put away try to pick fights with me once they got out. That count?”

Frowning, Keith shrugs. “That seems about right. Doesn’t it ever bother you? You’re just doing your job.”

“Sometimes. I understand their frustration, but the law is the law. Why should anyone be above it?”

“People say cops are.”

Shiro twirls the straw in his drink. “Some like to think they are and test the boundaries of it. It’s important to stay grounded for those reasons. My friends are what keep me together.”

The comment makes Keith smile. “You seem sentimental.”

“Only for them. They’re what family I have left.” He clears his throat and glances up, moving his cup to the side to make room for the incoming pizza. “But that’s a story for another day.

Distracted by food, their conversation dissolves into idle chatter. Weather, bad co-workers, funny animals on the internet, and how good the pizza is all get covered. By the end of dinner, Shiro’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much. When he gets the bill, he only regrets not picking Keith up so he could drive him home.

Keith holds up his wallet. “What do you need?”

Shiro pulls the bill away from prying eyes and shrugs. “You can pay tip if you want.”

“You paid for our last dinner.”

Feigning innocence, Shiro pouts. “What’s your point?”

“You shouldn’t have to pay for everything.”

Tucking his card into the plastic slip, Shiro hands it to their passing waitress. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Keith huffs and crosses his arms. “Are you always this stubborn?”

“Are you always this unwilling to get a free meal?”

Grumbling, Keith places a ten on the table. “Fine. I’ll pay for the tip.”

Shiro grins. “Thank you, babe.” His smile falls immediately, and he begins stuttering out an excuse.

“It’s okay.” Keith glances down at the table and traces the wood grains, trying to hide the flush creeping up his neck. “I like that.”

They part ways with a kiss, and Shiro goes home feeling lighter than air.

**~~~**

Quickly, they learn that their schedules don’t sync up very often. Shiro usually works days with Keith occupying the stage at night. For the first few weeks, Shiro takes Keith to dinner after he’s done working, only to trudge into the police station the next day looking like a wreck. Keith puts a stop to that quickly once he realizes what time Shiro has to be at work the next day. Eventually, it becomes the odd Tuesday or Wednesday that they get time together. Official dates deteriorate rapidly after they’re together for a month. It worsens after two. More often than not, Shiro dresses for work and before leaving, plants a kiss on a sleeping Keith’s cheek. Sometimes he’s there when Shiro gets home, sometimes not, but the times they have together, make up for all the missed moments.

**~~~**

“So tell me about your job.”

Shiro glances down at Keith, who’s currently commandeering most of the space on his chest. “Why do you want to know about that?”

Keith rolls onto his side, placing his head against Shiro’s shoulder. “Well, we’ve been together for almost four months, and you know so much about my job... I mean you visit practically once a week.”

Pausing the movie, Shiro purses his lips, perplexed. “What’s there to tell? A crime is called in, and I go to the location to look for clues.”

“Just like on TV?”

“Sort of? It’s less of a lonely job than they make it. Usually we work with our partners to find evidence and work with them to put all the pieces together.”

“Who’s your partner?”

“Hunk.”

Keith picks up Shiro’s hand and weaves their fingers together. “What’s he like? I’ve only met him the one time.”

The comment stirs guilt in Shiro’s chest. He’s always so busy, the time he makes for Keith, he selfishly wants for himself. “He’s a real sweetheart. Kind, brave, and loyal. Hunk is the perfect partner. He bakes in his free time and brings them to the squad. To fatten us up, I assume. But there are a lot of times that he has saved my skin because he takes his time and is careful with things.”

“Any stories?”

“Well, there is this one. We had recently gotten a lead on Zarkon. The leader of the Galra.”

“They’re a gang, right?”

“Yeah. Like L.A.’s own mafia. This guy was bad news. We knew that he’d killed people, trafficked drugs, and sold guns illegally, but he was smart. Covered his tracks thoroughly. So when Hunk and I got a break in the case, actual damn evidence on this guy, we were excited. I wanted to go running in head first. Zarkon had left really nasty scars all over L.A. because of the things he’d done. I was angry. In college, I lost a friend to the drugs he peddled.”

Keith pipes up softly. “You never mentioned that.”

Shiro pets Keith’s hair and sighs, “It’s just one of those things I usually keep buried. Sorry.”

He waits for Keith to acquiesce before continuing. “The clue we uncovered lead us to a warehouse. It was abandoned. Really sketchy, but I was gunning for a victory and not thinking. Hunk held me back. Told me to check the perimeter before going in. We found explosives between slats in the outer walls. There was no telling what was inside. Hunk called the bomb squad, and whatever they did caused the place to go up in flames like a dead Christmas tree. If it weren’t for Hunk, I would have walked in there and gotten myself blown up.”

“Did that destroy all of your evidence? Did you ever arrest Zarkon?”

“Yes. We were back at square one, but we did eventually catch him. Well, I say we, but Hunk was on vacation when the opportunity showed itself. The whole squad showed up to escort Zarkon to prison. It was a day I won’t forget.”

Keith hums, eyes drooping. “I bet not.”

Shiro laughs, “First the movie isn’t entertaining enough and now I’m not? You have high standards.”

Yawning, Keith tugs a blanket up to his neck. “I can’t help it if you’re the best pillow.” He playfully pokes at Shiro’s chest. “Never loses firmness.”

Shiro rolls his eyes and turns off the TV. “Goodnight, baby.”

 

The next morning, Shiro is up and making breakfast before Keith even crawls out of bed. He cheerfully greets his boyfriend and slides a couple of eggs onto a plate. “Rise and shine. It’s almost noon.”

Keith grumbles in response.

“That’s the spirit.” Shiro pulls butter from the fridge and slathers it over a stack of pancakes before setting the food in front of Keith. “I have a question for you.”

Keith utters a gravelly, “What.”

“Tomorrow is the station’s annual Fourth of July celebration. Most of the station goes, and we have a barbeque in the park. It’s a lot of fun. It starts at four and ends when the fireworks finish. People usually bring their significant others, so –” Shiro hesitates, “I know you’re worried about meeting them, but I really want you to go.”

Jabbing his fork into the pancake stack, Keith stares at them blankly. Shiro wonders if he’s tired or contemplating. He stretches out his hand and brushes Keith’s hair back from his face.

“You okay?”

“I don’t have anything tacky to wear.”

Shiro laughs, “We can go shopping.”

 

The park is more bustling than Keith expected. The park is lined with trees, providing shade for the hot day. Most benches are nestled under them with folks already chowing down on food. There’s dozens of people. The number surprises Keith, and he wonders who exactly is working at the station. But as they get closer, his concerns change.

He glances around, a distinct worry settling into the pit of his stomach. “So what do they know about me?”

“We met at a party.”

“That’s vague.”

Shiro laughs, “That’s the point.”

“But Hunk and Lance know the real story. Do they talk?”

Shiro grimaces. “Well, Lance does. But I think he was too distracted by your co-worker to really notice what was happening with you.”

Keith folds his arms tighter over his chest. “But he was there at the bar.”

“If we convince him Allura wants him quiet, he won’t say anything.”

They’re getting closer to the epicenter, and Keith feels his feet slowing down. “This is a bad idea. I can’t lie to a bunch of _detectives_ if they ask me what my job is.”

Shiro winds his arms around Keith’s waist and tugs him forward. “You dance for a living.”

“As if that’ll work.”

“They don’t have to know it’s at Tito’s.”

Keith sighs and rests his head on Shiro’s shoulder, jostling into him with every step. “This is torture.”

“We haven’t even gotten to the party. And don’t forget, you willingly came.”

“You asked me when I’d just woken up. That’s not fair. I don’t have brain cells that early.”

“At noon?”

Keith gives him the stink eye, and Shiro stifles a laugh. “Fine. If at any moment someone makes you uncomfortable, come get me and we’ll leave.”

Planting a kiss on Shiro’s shoulder, Keith mutters a thank you, putting on his friendliest face as they approach the crowd.

 

The event isn’t as bad as he anticipated, admittedly. The food is good, with Hunk manning the grill alongside the most vibrant man Keith has seen in a long time. Most of the people are nice, sans the one clerk who openly claims he gave her sister a lap dance on her 30th birthday. That stirs the pot. Violently.

By the time the fireworks are set to begin, Keith feels like he’s back in high school, surrounded by clusters of whispering people. It’s vain to think that they could all be gossiping about him, but the stares that bore into his back when Shiro kisses him could sear his insides.

Shiro picks up on his mood immediately, “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah.” He chews at his lip. “I just wish the cat didn’t get out of the bag so quickly.”

Drawing him closer, Shiro kisses the top of his head. “You know it doesn’t change anything, right?”

Keith nods, and Shiro pulls back, glancing at Allura a few feet in front of them. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

As Shiro walks away, the first of the fireworks go up with a shriek and a bang. Keith sighs and watches them explode their colors onto the black night sky. He knows he’s overreacting, but he can’t help it sometimes. Keith glances at Shiro and the tension in his chest melts, leaving him feeling warm, heart skipping as Shiro catches his gaze and winks.

Maybe it’s not all so bad. Not with a man like Shiro. He waits, as patiently as possible, for the conversation in front of him to be concluded. That never happens.

The high pitched whine of the fireworks shifts and instead of rocketing toward the sky, it streaks past Keith’s head, barreling through the park. He blinks, and he’s on the grounds, head spinning from the impact. Shiro brushes his hair back, hands shaking, lips moving as he says something Keith can’t hear. When the ringing stops, he hears the screaming first.

People from all parties are fleeing the park, rushing toward cars and hiding behind benches for protection. Keith blinks the haziness away and lifts a hand to hold onto Shiro, fingers expecting the firm fabric of his over starched American flag polo. What they find is wet and warm.

“Shiro?”

Only now does Keith notice Shiro’s pallor and labored breath. He draws a hand up to Shiro’s face and tries to get his attention. “Shiro, can you lay on your back?”

A trembling nod of the head and Shiro slumps to Keith’s side, exposing the damage done. The firework hit a tree. Sobering up, Keith realizes the impact splintered the oak and sent shards everywhere. He grabs Shiro’s hand, pressing down on his wrist for a pulse.

“Shiro, how are you feeling?” Keith strips his shirt off, balling it up and sticking it behind his boyfriend’s head. “Baby, talk to me.”

He barely chokes out a grunt of pain.

Keith digs out his phone, dialing while trying to get Shiro to at least squeeze his hand. He’s never been more grateful that a park was so close to a hospital. It’s only minutes until the ambulances and firetrucks arrive, but time crawls for Keith as he tries to keep Shiro from going into shock.

The paramedics arrive and every fiber in Keith’s being doesn’t want to let go. With a shaking breath, he kisses Shiro’s hand.

“I love you.”

It’s all he gets out before the sirens are blaring and Shiro is gone.

One of the EMTs on sight checks him over and gives him the okay to leave, but an old co-worker catches him on route to Shiro’s car.

“Keith? Is that you?”

Barely managing a smile, Keith nods. “Hey James. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah... Are-are you leaving?”

“Well-”

“Because we could use all the help we could get.”

Keith wrings his hands, the blood on them crumbling with the friction. “I- I don’t know. I haven’t practiced in years.”

He’s eager. “But you still know how to dress bandages, yeah?” James holds up a medical kit. “Please. We only have three people on site and so many people are hurt.”

With a sigh, Keith relents. “Only this once.”

He clears off a picnic table and sets up the medical kit, patching up people one by one. Allura approaches and sits down, offering her arm up for treatment.

“Man of many talents.”

“I guess so.”

“Does Shiro know?”

Keith sniffs, feigning ignorance. “Know what?”

“That you used to be an EMT.”

He cuts a swath of bandage and avoids her stare. “Nope. How do you?”

“I do what he’s unwilling to. Background check.” That earns her a laugh. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s not my job.”

She places her hand on top of his, forcing him to stop working. “But it’s part of you.”

“Look, Allura, I wasn’t cut out for the job. Losing people was too much for me. What I do now makes me happy, okay? I can’t carry that kind of grief.”

She removes her hand and nods. “I understand. It took me a while to get used to what I do. There are still some cases that haunt me. I can’t blame you for taking a route that’s better for you.” Glancing around, Allura thanks him, “You’ve done a good thing today. I’m sure Shiro will be proud to hear it. Go visit him.”

Keith begins packing up the medical kit when another person sits down in front of him. He sighs internally and shifts to look at them when his heart stops. The grin on the man’s face is unmistakably the same one from months ago when he was out with Shiro. Despite feeling sick, Keith swallows his unease and offers a smile.

“Can I help you?”

The man places his hand on the table, gesturing to the burn with eerily long, pointed fingernails. “I must have been struck by a bit of the flames when the tree went up. Would you be so kind to mend me?”

“Of course.” Keith pulls out a burn salve and dresses the skin already beginning to scar. He gently applies a cotton covering to the man’s hand before stowing the supplies away quickly. “That burn isn’t so bad it needs a skin graft, but I would recommend buying some cream to help the healing process.”

The man offers a toothy smile and his other hand to shake. “Might I know the name of the man who assisted me tonight?”

Reluctantly, Keith takes his hand. “Keith.”

“Keith, I’m charmed. You may call me Lotor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's to season 8!


	5. Love Sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as you know, normally I don't post super frequently, but I'm throwing myself into AU's because of the end of Voltron. So, while school is on winter break, I'm going to try to write as much as I can. Hopefully until January there will be weekly updates. I'll try my best!
> 
> Also a big thank you to all who comment and leave kudos. You guys have no idea how much it means to me to see your reactions to my story. I'm grateful for all readers, but those little interactions really keep me going. <3

Despite feeling unsettled by his encounter with Lotor, Keith shakes it off and hurries to the hospital. The receptionist informs him that one ‘Takashi Shirogane’ is still in the O.R. and he is welcome to wait in their lobby, visit the gift shop, or stop by the cafeteria. Keith opts to distract himself in the gift shop.

The walls of trinkets and bundles of get well balloons are enough to keep him distracted for the time being. Though, he can’t imagine that anyone in the hospital would like to get either. A generic figure from the hospital gift shop doesn’t scream ‘you matter to me’ very loudly. Still, Keith picks each figure up, reading their names on the bottom and questioning who thought certain interpretations made sense. Joy doesn’t really feel like a chubby kid in a bumblebee costume to him.

It doesn’t take long for the cashier to find him. She hovers like a stubborn parent as he flips through rows of cards and tests the plushiness of a few stuffed animals.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m just looking.”

“I see. Is there anything in particular you are thinking of?”

Keith rolls the little black cat plush between his palms and sets it on his shoulder. “What gift says: I’m sorry you got a shard of tree stuck in your side while trying to save my life?”

Her eagerness deflates and she stutters out a response. “Well, w-we have a lovely selection of cards.” She glances toward the display. “Though I don’t think there’s anything that specific.”

“Thanks anyway.” Keith sighs and directs his attention to the mini fridge beside the checkout counter. He tugs a water free from the front row and pulls the cat off his shoulder, placing both in front of the register.

The cashier is silent while she rings him up, save telling him the total. Fifteen sixty seven for a plush the size of his palm and barely enough water to get him through thirty minutes.

Keith pesters the receptionist again, and she apologizes before reminding him that visiting hours are over in less than forty minutes. He thanks her and heads to the bathroom, hoping to refresh himself with a splash of water to the face.

His reflection surprises him, and he’s shocked either of the hospital employees didn’t just call security on him. Dirt coats his neck and face, making him look like he just crawled out of a deep pit. Not to mention his blood stained undershirt. Keith grabs a couple of paper towels and does his best to clean up. His face looks a bit better after the attempt, but there’s no hope for the shirt. The blood has already crusted over.

Twenty minutes pass before he approaches the front desk again. Keith barely gets his mouth open before she’s speaking.

“Third floor, ICU room 133.”

Too tired to say anything else, he gives her a weak smile and rushes the elevators. It’s nearly nine, and Keith is grateful most visitors have left by now. He alone traverses the ICU wing. It doesn’t take long for a nurse to stop him.

“Can I help you?”

At least her tone is more caring than the cashier downstairs.

“I’m looking for my boyfriend, Takashi Shirogane. The receptionist said he’d be up here.”

The nurse checks her chart and nods. “He’s here, but he just got out of surgery minutes ago. He’ll still be unconscious for another hour or so.”

Keith’s heart squeezes inside his chest, heavy with disappointment. “Can I at least see him?”

The woman glances at the clock and then back at him, clicking her tongue and biting her lip. “Fine. But please, don’t touch him.”

When Shiro comes into view, part of Keith wishes he just went home. There are cords everywhere. So many that Keith can’t tell what’s attached where and why. He takes a step forward but the nurse clears her throat, stopping him in his tracks.

“Why does he have tracheal tube?”

“It’s standard during surgery. Prevents suffocation. We typically remove it once the patient has woken up and proven to be perfectly fine breathing on their own.”

“Can you tell me how the operation went?”

“I’m sorry. That’s confidential information. I cannot speak of his condition or procedures without direct consent of him or his emergency contact.”

“Who’s his contact?”

She glances at her clipboard. “What’s your name?”

“Keith Kogane.”

“It’s not you.”

He sighs and pulls the little black cat from his gift shop bag. “I know I’m not supposed to go in, but would you mind placing this next to his bed? If he wakes up during your shift, just mention I stopped by.”

She grabs the cat and walks it over to the heart monitor, placing it on top. “Have a good night, Mr. Kogane.”

 

Having barely slept the night before, Keith arrives at the hospital – nine a.m. sharp. He rushes past the front desk, beelining it to the elevators and floor three.

There’s much more hustle and bustle in the ICU during the day time. He hops out of the way of nurses and technicians a few times before he even approaches Shiro’s room. The door is open and he steps in, forgetting that he’s supposed to be okayed first. The nurse inside looks up and seethes.

“Excuse me, what are you doing in here? There are regulations that must be followed in a hospital, particularly in the intensive care wing. Who do you think yo-”

A soft croak interrupts her tirade. “Keith?”

The nurse glances down at Shiro. “You know him?”

Shiro’s smile is lax. Drugs soften his demeanor and his voice. “My boyfriend.” Shiro moves slowly, but he holds out his hand for Keith to take. “I missed you, baby.” His head lolls to the side, and he nods toward the heart monitor. “Nurse Shay says Keef brought me this cat. Isn’t he the sweetest?”

The current nurse nods tersely and finishes her checkup. “Do not touch any wires or tubes. He’s stable right now, but being in the ICU means he has a long way to go. Please make your visit brief.”

Keith pulls up a chair and sits beside Shiro, brushing back his hair methodically. “Did they tell you what happened?”

“Trunk in my junk.” Shiro snickers at his own joke.

Keith reconsiders how doped up he might be. “Is that it?”

Shiro tugs at the blankets around him until they’re at his waist. His words stick together. “I’m missing!” He waves around his right arm, what’s left of it. It's severed at the elbow and wrapped in bandages.

Letting that sink in, Keith unwittingly stares, stomach churning at the sight of leeching blood in the gauze. “Are you okay?”

Dropping his arm, Shiro looks back at Keith, eyes glossy. “Bay-bee. I got a boo- a beau- pretty boy.” He grabs Keith’s hand and pulls it up to his face, holding it against his cheek. “I love, love.”

The action makes Keith giggle. “How much morphine did they give you?”

“Apparently a lot to knock him out.”

Keith turns to find Hunk leaning against the door frame.

“The nurse tells me he woke up swinging, so they had to dose him hard.”

“I take it you’re the emergency contact?”

Hunk puts up his hands. “Guilty as charged.” He pulls up a chair beside Keith and attempts to ask Shiro how he’s doing. After getting a garbled response, he turns his attention to Keith. “So what happened yesterday? I volunteered for duty because I didn’t have anyone to bring, but it sounds like I missed a lot.”

“If a lot is a rogue firework and an exploding tree, then yes.” Keith glances down at his hands, not wanting to see Hunks face when he answers. “Do you know if anyone died?”

“So far? No. There were a lot of people, and since it wasn’t an event where people had to sign in or were specifically invited it’s difficult to pin down everyone that was present. But, what I know is most people weren’t near the tree that was hit. No tables were under it and by then people had mostly gathered toward the middle of the park to watch the fireworks. Of the approximately 400 people in the park that night only a dozen or two were within the blast zone. Or so we think. The investigation is still in progress.”

Keith presses a kiss to Shiro’s knuckles and sighs, “Thanks Hunk.”

“No problem.” He lets the silence fill the space before breaking it again. “You know, he talks about you a lot.”

“I’m nothing special.”

Hunk shrugs. “Maybe not to you, but he’s smitten.” Silence takes over again. “Listen, Keith. This, this is going to be hard on him. I need to know that you’re willing to stay with him, despite this accident.”

“You think I’m going to leave him because he lost an arm?”

“I’ve seen people do shittier things. So if you’re going to duck out, do it now. It’ll be easier on him in the long run if you don’t give him false hope.”

Offended, Keith bristles, “I’m not going to leave him.”

“Good.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah. That’s it.” Hunk stands. “I didn’t expect anything less after what he’s said about you, but I wanted to be sure.” He hands Keith a business card. “If you need anything or if he’s less drugged later and wants to talk, give me a call.”

 

It doesn't take long for Shiro to pass out after Hunk leaves. Keith leaves a note on his bedside, informing him that he's visiting his mom and will be back before dinner.

With all the thoughts racing around Keith’s head, the drive out of the city is comforting. Clusters of buildings are slowly replaced with rows of trees and walls lining neighborhoods. He forgets how calming the suburbs can be.

Located near the center of one community development is his mother’s house. It’s a mirror image of the other homes on the block, two stories, a pine in the front yard, and a lined walkway leading to the front of the house. The only reason Keith can identify it after all these years is because of the garage door. On it is a mural of the desert – deep browns and bright greens bring to life the essence of the Sonoran.

Keith remembers the hours his mom put into that piece. Krolia spent days outside, sitting on an overturned paint bucket, detailing the cacti and desert animals. It was a gift for his dad, right after they moved from Phoenix. She hoped he’d feel less homesick.

She’s on the patio, watering tomato plants when he pulls into the driveway. “Now that’s a car I don’t recognize.”

Looking back at the shiny black sedan, Keith hesitates, having forgotten he was driving around in Shiro’s car since the incident. “Belongs to my boyfriend.”

Krolia smirks and shuts off the water. “Must be serious.”

Keith hums, “You have no idea. But that’s kind of why I’m here.” He gives her a brief hug before trailing her into the house. “I need your advice.”

She sits on the couch, and he follows suit, nervously bouncing his foot as she relocates some magazines from the furniture to the coffee table. “What exactly is troubling you?”

“When dad got sick, how did you help him?”

Her eyebrows lift before settling into a tight line. “You never ask about that kind of stuff. Is something wrong?”

Sighing, Keith wrings his hands. “There was an accident on the 4th. Shiro got injured. Lost half his arm. I want to help, but he’s a cop who’s lived on his own for ten years. I just-” He rubs at his temples. “I just want to help him without stepping on his toes or making him feel bad.”

Krolia’s answer is soft, “I see.” She scoots closer. “Keith, when someone goes through something like that, it’s not easy. Don’t feel bad if things don’t work out.”

“But I _want_ them to work out.”

“Sweetie, I get that, but you have to acknowledge that sometimes when people get hurt, they lash out, and all you can do is step back and let them be.”

Keith swallows the lump in his throat and nods. The thought of Shiro calling it quits because he got injured makes Keith nauseous, but he doesn’t know how to avoid something like that.

“To be honest, when your father got sick, I let him be. Of course I gave him support, but I made sure not to overstep my boundaries. Until the very end, I let him make his own choices. Sometimes all you can do is establish that you’re there for him, and let him come to you on his own.”

Keith’s voice barely reaches above a whisper, “And what if he doesn’t?”

“Talk to him. Don’t let things go unsaid. That’s how emotions fester and people end up apart.” She pats him on the shoulder. “From what you’ve told me, he’s a good man. Don’t be afraid to tell him how you feel.” Krolia pulls him into a hug. “No matter what, the most important thing is to listen with love.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

She stands and juts a thumb toward the kitchen. “What do you say to some lunch?”

 

After eating, Krolia sends Keith home with plenty of leftovers and a few flowers from her garden for Shiro. The drive home is quiet, but Keith’s nerves are at ease after the conversation with his mom.

When evening comes, Keith returns to the hospital. Shiro is alert and jabbing a spork into a bowl of green jello. Keith clears his throat and steps into the room.

“Am I interrupting?”

Shiro’s relief is evident on his face. “Keith.” He shoves the rolling table to the side and leans forward, pulling Keith into a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Me? _I’m_ the one worrying about _you_.” He locates a chair and saddles up beside the bed. “How are you feeling?”

Shiro’s gaze falls, and he sighs deeply. “I’ve been better.” He glances at his right arm, and a frown creases his brow. “I never imagined something like this could happen to me.”

The melancholy in Shiro’s eyes strike right to Keith’s core. He tugs Shiro’s hand onto his lap. “You know, I’m here for you. Whatever you need. Just ask.”

Shiro pulls away immediately. “That’s sweet, but you don’t need to stay. I know how much you hate hospitals.”

“I’m not here because the location is enjoyable. I’m here because I love you.”

Eyes widening, Shiro finally looks up. “You what?”

Ignoring the rapid beating of his heart, Keith steadies his voices and repeats himself, slower, “I’m here because I _love_ you.”

Shiro’s lip quivers and he stares down at his lap. “Even after the accident?”

“All that matters is you’re alive.” Keith picks up Shiro’s hand, kisses his palm, and presses his cheek against it. “I thought I was going to lose you. Please don’t make it happen now.”

Brushing his thumb against Keith’s face, Shiro shakes his head. “I won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's to burying ourselves in fan fiction because of s8.


	6. Crazy for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get rough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters like this make me wonder if my readers are just so confused about where this plot is going. I promise, I have a vision.

The next few days play out the same. Keith visits, stays too long, and the grumpy day nurse hisses at him to let her patient rest. Keith leaves, waits a few hours, and returns when the sweet night nurse is working. The third day, Shiro finally gets discharged, and that’s when things go south.

Keith jumps up, panic spiking his blood pressure at the sound of a crash from the front of the house. He rushes from the living room to the kitchen to see Shiro standing over a pile of broken plates – shards scattered all across the tile floor.

Shiro glances up at Keith, tears in his eyes. “I just wanted some water.”

Precariously stepping around the bigger chunks of glass, Keith reaches above the plates, what’s left of them, to grab Shiro a cup. “I’ll clean this up. Be careful where you step.”

He stands there, motionless. “You don’t have to do anything. This is my mess.”

“Shiro, it’s fine. I don’t mind.”

His tone shifts. “You don’t think I can do it?”

Unease settles into Keith’s chest. He tries to focus on what his mother told him. “Of course you can. I just want to make things easier on you.”

The defensiveness melts out of Shiro’s body and he sighs, “I’m sorry.” He turns the cup over in his hand. “I just feel so useless.”

Keith grabs a dustpan and a broom, planting a kiss on Shiro’s cheek before getting to work. “I know, but think of this as an adjustment period. You’re getting used to everything all over again. It’ll take some time, but you’ve already made progress from the time we left the hospital a few days ago.”

“I guess so.”

“It’s hard to see your own progress in small increments, but I promise you, it’s there. Just wait a couple weeks and you’ll be surprised with how well you’ve adjusted.”

Shiro’s smile brightens the room. “I love you, baby.”

Keith grins, focusing on sweeping up the glass so Shiro can’t see the harsh blush on his face. “I love you too.”

 

A few weeks pass without incident, but bad days are inevitable, and Keith quickly learns that a single untimely question can unravel someone.

Stretched out on the bed, Keith watches Shiro fiddle with the button on his jeans. “Can I help you?”

His tone is sharp, impatient, and frustrated, “I’m fine.”

The sting of his attitude hurts a little, but Keith tries not to take it to heart. “Well, is there anything at all I can help with? You need laundry done or want me to vacuum the house or -”

“I said I’m _fine_ , Keith. I don’t need you.”

Burying his disappointment, Keith sniffs and clamors under the covers. He glances at the clock and wonders if he wants to commit to ignoring Shiro by sleeping early, despite the fact that it’s only half past eight.

A large thud from the bathroom distracts Keith from his stewing. Shiro kicked the door shut. Cautiously, Keith approaches the door, knocking gently.

“Are you okay?”

“No.”

“Can I come in?”

Shiro nudges the door open, peeking around it at Keith. “I just want to take a shower.” He drops his head. “I’m sorry for acting like an ass.”

Keith settles on his knees in front of Shiro, resting his chin on Shiro’s leg. “I know it’s hard asking for help. I never want to do it either, but I’m here for you. For as long as you need me.”

Conceding, Shiro plants a kiss on Keith’s lips and allows him to unbutton his pants. “What am I gonna do the next time you’re at work?”

Keith laughs, “Maybe it’s time we invest in some sweat pants.”

 

Thirty minutes later, Keith sets his phone down, eyes focusing on the bathroom. Shiro turned the water off about ten minutes ago, but hasn’t emerged yet. He moves to the door, testing the handle. It gives, so he opens it carefully. His heart aches at what he sees.

Shiro stands in front of the mirror, tracing the skin beginning to scar on his arm and torso. The dried tears on his face tell Keith all he needs to know.

He doesn’t move when Keith steps in, only speaks slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s hideous.” He drops his hand to the counter, leaning on it. “Sometimes I feel hopeful, like this won’t stop me, but then I remember that the force has put me on paid leave because they don’t think I can do my job with one arm. I look at it and think of how if I didn’t tackle you, you’d be dead.” His voice lowers, “But then I wonder if it was worth it.”

Keith startles, a soft gasp escaping his throat. He swallows down on the sadness rising in his chest, waiting for Shiro to finish his piece.

Shiro sighs, “I want a life with you, but I don’t know if I’m enough anymore. I don’t want you staying with me because you feel obligated. Saving you was as much love as it was gut reaction.”

Keith steps toward Shiro, closing in on his space and wrapping his arms around his waist. “If I was only here because I felt obligated, I wouldn’t bother lying to you and telling you I love you. There's no point in deceiving you." He rests his head on Shiro’s bare chest. “I’m here because I love you. Because you mean a lot to me, not because I feel like I owe you my life.” He reaches down and winds his fingers with Shiro’s. “You make me happy, Shiro. Regardless of injury. You’re a better man than anyone I’ve ever met.” He turns his head and kisses Shiro’s chest, his voice dropping. “Not to mention, I’ve spent months restraining myself from jumping your bones, and you losing an arm hasn’t changed that at all.”

Pulling back, Shiro smiles. “You mean that?”

Keith tugs on Shiro’s hand, leading him into the bedroom. “I do.” His knees hit the mattress and he grins, “Want me to prove it?”

Shiro's response is a bite to Keith clavicle. As he licks and sucks down on the same spot, Keith's legs buckle. He opens his mouth to encourage Shiro to continue, but all he utters is a wanton moan.

Shiro gets the hint anyway. He slips his hand up Keith's night shirt and tugs it over his head, tossing it to the floor. He drops his mouth lower, streaking a series of bites and kisses down Keith's chest until he’s on his knees.

Keith brushes a hand through Shiro's hair, watching as he pulls down his boxers. “What are your plans down there?”

Shiro kisses the junction of Keith’s hip and thigh. “I wanna fuck you, so I have to loosen you up.” He grins. “Just lay down, baby. I’ll treat you right.”

Keith obeys Shiro's instructions but props up on his elbows, eyes following Shiro as he lays on the end of the bed and pulls Keith’s hips closer. “How's that?”

“I'm gonna eat you out.”

Keith's cock visibly twitches and Shiro smirks. He spreads Keith as best he can and delivers one swift lick to his hole. Immediately, Keith drops his head to awaiting pillows and sighs something that sounds vaguely like 'yes'. Shiro takes that as praise and proceeds.

He starts slow, small licks alternating with long languid ones. As the tension in Keith's thighs vanishes, Shiro goes for targeted pleasure. He moves his hand closer, spreading Keith's hole and licking the rim repeatedly. His fingers slip a little, wet with spit, so he presses one in, earning a low moan for his efforts. With one digit in, and a few more to go, he pulls out and reaches for the only lube he had in the house – cherry flavored. Shiro's just grateful it’s edible.

He douses his fingers and goes back to playing with Keith's rim. Upon getting the second finger in and teasing around the inside, Keith tenses and a rough hand grabs a fistful of Shiro's hair. Shiro kisses the inside of Keith's thigh and makes note to exploit his prostate later. Right now, he's focused on getting Keith as wet as possible.

Keith whines when Shiro removes his fingers but struggles to catch his breath when he sits up and removes his towel. He blinks, fighting the urge to wolf whistle at Shiro's size. He should have pregamed. Shiro pulls Keith onto his lap, strokes his cock with lube, and positions himself.

Keith's deep breath turns into a sharp gasp when Shiro sinks in. He whips out his hands, grabbing anything to secure himself as Shiro stretches him farther than any man has before. He bites down on his lip, hoping that it'll keep his whole body from trembling, but when Shiro gets to the hilt, Keith's head drops and he lets out a long groan.

Shiro sets his hand on Keith's hip and rubs small circles with his thumb. “How you doing, baby?”

Keith covers his face with both hands. “You're gonna break me in two.”

Encouraged by the lewd remark, Shiro pulls out a little, loving the way that Keith's breath quivers in response. His chest heaves as Shiro's pace grows faster. With every thrust, Shiro grazes Keith's prostate and it's all Keith can do to keep from crying out every time. The friction is hot - the draw of Shiro's heavy cock teasing his oversensitive rim with every push and pull of Shiro's hips. He whines again, panting Shiro's name as he's edged closer and closer to an abrupt finish.

Shiro slides his hand from hip to thigh to better his angle and for a brief moment, Keith hopes he'll have bruises in the morning. Shiro slows down, shifting beneath Keith and leaning over him. Keith spreads his legs further and ghosts his fingers down Shiro's shoulder, admiring the muscle. He opens his mouth to say something but a sudden thrust to his prostate kills every thought in his head. It's Shiro now and only Shiro. Their hips collide again and again with Shiro setting a punishing pace as he nips hickies into Keith's pale skin. He relishes in the way Keith's throat vibrates with moans as he leaves marks up and down his neck.

Head back, leaving himself completely vulnerable, Keith chokes back a sob as Shiro's thrusts strike deeper. He knots his fingers in Shiro's hair and yanks him up, planting a sloppy and uncouth kiss on his lips. He licks into Shiro's mouth and wraps his legs around his waist, desperately trying to pull him closer. Keith breaks off with a gasp that devolves into a scream of Shiro's name. Chest heaving, he drags Shiro back down into a kiss, keeping him there until Shiro's hips stutter and he ruts into him through his orgasm.

Shiro plants one last kiss on Keith's jaw before rolling off him and grabbing his previously discarded towel. He wipes Keith down and wraps his arm around his waist, drawing him close.

Keith sighs, bliss still settled over his features as he grins at Shiro.

"What are you thinking?"

He laughs, "If I had known you were that good at sex when I first met you, I would have broken all of my rules to let you hit it."

Shiro rolls his eyes but smirks, internally proud. "I guess it worked out either way.”

Keith hums and settles his head on Shiro's chest. "I haven't felt this good in so long." His eyes grow heavy. "I love you."

Kissing the crown of Keith's head, Shiro smiles. "I love you too, baby."


	7. I Knew You Were Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please heed the new tags!

In the morning, Keith wakes up to a cold bed. He finds some clothes and tugs them on before trying to locate Shiro. It doesn’t take long. The smell of Hunk’s fresh baked cinnamon rolls hits his nose and riles his stomach, tempting him with the comforting scent of bread, but he stops short of satisfying his hunger when he hears another voice. Tucking himself behind the wall separating the hall from the living room, he listens in.

The unfamiliar voice is snide. “Look, Shiro, I get that you’ve been dating him for five months, but you have to consider the fact that none of your friends think he’s good for you.”

Hunk chimes in, irritated. “Oh come on, Lance. You’re the only one who thinks that. Allura even likes him and she’s usually the hardest to win over.”

Shiro’s voice makes Keith’s heart skip a beat. “I get you’re trying to be protective, but Hunk is right. I talk to my friends. Pidge, Hunk, and Allura would have said something by now.”

“Fine, maybe they’ve given up, but I haven’t. And I have proof that he’s bad for you.”

Hunk sighs, “Here we go. He’s been talking about this all week but refused to show me his ‘evidence’.”

“That’s because I was saving it for Shiro’s eyes.”

There’s a sharp smack and Lance’s “voila”.

Shiro sounds disinterested. “A manila envelope. Spectacular.”

“You know damn well the evidence is inside.”

“Look, Lance. There’s a brad keeping that thing closed and I have one hand. Care to just tell me what you found?”

Hunk’s low tone hits Keith’s ears despite the whisper. “Just remember you started this by asking. He’s not gonna shut up until you dump Keith.”

Whether or not Lance heard, Keith doesn’t know, but he starts into his evidence immediately. “First, he’s been arrested. Assaulted his boss with a fold up metal chair when he was seventeen.”

Shiro’s tone doesn’t change. “Just arrested? If he was let go, he must have had a good reason.”

Lance’s tone turns meek. “W-well the report says his boss abused him and the assault happened when he walked in on his boss raping his co-worker. Charges were pressed by both sides, but he and his co-worker won out. The other guy got fifty years for a variety of things.”

Hunk scoffs. “A teenager snaps after being abused. Wow, Lance. Great job making a victim the bad guy.”

“I’m inclined to agree with Hunk. If I was in his shoes, I probably would have done the same thing. What else you got?”

Lance, Keith assumes, shuffles some papers before speaking. “He’s a whore.”

“Excuse me?” Shiro sounds angry. “You don’t have any right to-”

“He’s cheated on you.” A wobble of paper, makes Keith think Lance has pictures. “I didn’t trust him so once a week for the last few weeks, I’ve been going to the bar during peak hours to see what he does.”

Hunk sounds bored. “He strips, Lance. We all know what Keith does for a living. Even I’ve seen him in a thong.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it! That picture is a little blurry but he’s kissing some guy after performing on stage. Who even knows what he gets up to during private dances. Shiro, have you ever considered that maybe he hasn’t put out for you yet because he’s fucking other men?”

Keith takes a deep breath and grits his teeth. He can’t expose himself by barging in there now.

“I had sex with him last night.”

“Did you use a condom?”

Shiro’s tone remains clipped. “That’s none of your business.”

“I’d get tested if I were you, because your boyfriend is loose.”

Something crashes to the floor and Keith flinches, holding his breath as Shiro yells. He’s never heard him so livid.

“You come into my house, claiming my boyfriend is unhinged and a whore, all the while calling yourself my friend? I don’t care how good you think your intentions are. You’ve crossed a line, Lance. I love him and I don’t care what your stupid envelope has to say about that.”

Lance goes on the defense. “He’s keeping secrets from you! I haven’t even gotten to the fact that he’s vain and in massive debt because of medical procedures. It’s only a matter of time until he dumps you for losing your arm because he’s a piece of shit who’s probably only interested in the typical macho man type. You don’t fit that anymore. Just face the facts, Shiro, you need to end this before he breaks your heart and steals your credit card.”

“Get out.”

Unwilling to let Shiro sever ties with his friends, Keith takes a deep breath and rounds the corner. Shiro is standing up and the vase he brought home from the hospital is in pieces on the floor.

“Shiro?”

The fury immediately dissolves from Shiro’s form and he breathes Keith’s name, holding his hand out. Keith takes it and they sit on the loveseat; he curls up into Shiro’s side, eyeing Lance and Hunk on the couch across from them. Hunk is on one end, clearly pained and distancing himself from Lance’s display.

Keith rests his head on Shiro’s shoulder. “I hear I’m on trial.”

Lance tenses up, paling as he shuffles his papers back into one pile.

“Don’t worry, they’re leaving.”

“If you want me to clear things up,” he levels a stare at Lance. “I’d be happy too.”

Hesitating, Lance pulls out a set of pictures. Keith immediately recognizes them from the previous Saturday. “Why’d you kiss this guy?”

“Are you aware that performers kissing clients is generally frowned upon? It’s even more taboo for clients to kiss the performers. That man decided that after sticking a dollar down my pants, he deserved something more. He pulled me down by the back of my neck and planted one on me, whether or not I liked it.”

Lance sneers. “I assumed you liked it, because you didn’t even react. You _smiled_.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “I smiled because last week a guy stuck his hand down a girl’s shorts and she smacked him across the face. Fired on the spot. As professional performers, we’re expected to take whatever patrons throw at us with a smile. We can report them after and get them banned, but if we react, the patron is upset and gets other customers upset. Upset people don’t spend money, they leave.”

Hunk leans forward. “Are you serious? What if you feel endangered?”

“I’ve taken my fair share of private dances that have gone south.” Shiro tenses beside him. “In those cases because we’re separated from people that can help us, we’re allowed to scream and hit. I broke a guy’s nose once.”

Lance raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know."

Shiro’s grip around Keith’s waist tightens. He leans forward, kissing at Keith’s jaw and pressing his lips to his shoulder.

Hunk crosses his arms. “Alright, Lance. Only one more mystery to uncover.”

Producing credit reports, Lance tosses them onto the coffee table in front of Keith. “You got a credit card at twenty and immediately got into 18 thousand dollars of debt. These statements say all of them are medical. You get a face lift? Botox? How did you get this much debt?”

Spite crawls into Keith’s tone. “My dad died.”

In the corner, Hunk mutters a soft, “Oh damn.”

“My mother is a painter. She’s amazing at what she does. She’s done murals for rich people and the government, and does commissions for anyone who will pay her. But when my dad got sick she had to choose to either continue boosting her career as an artist or take care of him. Her loans were massive. So, when I got a decent paying job, I took on half of her debt.”

Shiro smirks. “That clear things up for you, Lance?”

“I just have one more question.”

Hunk groans.

“How many men have you had sex with?”

Keith crosses his arms, shutting himself off. “That’s _none_ of your business.”

“So it’s a lot?”

“Why does it matter?”

Lance shuffles his evidence and sits back. “I have a gut feeling, I have to be right. You are _hiding_ something.” He pulls a file from the mix and sets it down. “Could have to do with... Thace?”

Keith’s eyes widen as he grabs the folder. “Where did you get this?”

“Someone must have paid a lot of money to hide that. But I’m a good detective, so I found it anyway.” He grins, smug. “I guess I should explain. You see, Keith here used to be an EMT, but that’s no secret thanks to Allura’s background check. He claims he quit because watching people die in the ambulance was too traumatic. That’s a lie.”

“Please stop.”

“Actually, Keith, with his thousands in debt was whoring on the side but that didn’t suit his tastes, so I assume to forget about selling his body, he did cocaine.”

Shiro’s grip loosens and he pulls away. “What?”

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll get to the good part. So since Keith was pulling two jobs, it was bound to happen that he was high when he got called for duty. The file says negligent homicide.”

Keith’s lip quivers. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“You got called to an apartment, were assigned to resuscitate a man, but broke down in a cocaine addled bout of severe paranoia, and failed to do your job. He _died_ because you’re a junky whore who couldn’t even function because you were so coked up.” Lance laughs, “And to top it off, because you frequently bent over for the chief executive of the hospital, he covered it up for you. Let you quit in peace despite the fact that you let a man die. His wife found out about you, by the way. I hear she’s happily divorced.”

Shiro plucks the file from Keith’s hands, spreading it out on the coffee table. Looking over the contents, he chews the inside of his cheek and exhales audibly. “This was only three years ago.”

Lance shrugs. “I told you. He’s bad news.”

Keith folds in on himself, avoiding meeting Shiro’s gaze as he pours over the case. He tamps down on the sob rising in his chest. Shiro hasn’t said anything. No reason to jump the gun.

Shiro sighs, “Lance, I don’t understand.”

“What’s not to get?”

“Why would you show me this? I thought all the other things were bad, but this tops them all. His past is none of your business.”

“You’re kidding me, right? You deserve to know!”

“No, I don’t. If he doesn’t want to tell me, that’s up to him. But you dredging this stuff up against his will? Just because you think I’ll dump him for his past mistakes? Lance, my third year on the force I got drunk on duty and shot an innocent woman. She bled out on the grass of her front yard.” He grits his teeth. “You think we don’t all have shit to answer for? What about what happened with Nyma?”

Lance shrinks against the couch, and Hunk shakes his head. “He got you there.”

“Get rid of the envelope and all the papers. Burn them. Make sure they never see the light of day.” He tosses the file at Lance and winds his arm back around Keith’s waist. “I don’t want to hear about any of this ever again.”

 

When Lance and Hunk leave, Shiro realizes Keith is missing. He finds him sitting on the kitchen floor with the entire tray of Hunk’s cinnamon rolls in his lap, half of one stuffed in his mouth.

Keith refuses to meet Shiro’s eye and his voice shakes when he speaks, “So now you know.” He releases a quivering breath. “In twenty-four years of life, I’ve fucked up a lot.”

Shiro slowly lowers himself to the floor but lands with a thud. He grumbles momentarily before focusing on Keith. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

His answer is quiet, full of remorse. “No.” Keith sniffles and sets his half eaten roll in the pan, delaying his response by sucking the icing off his fingers. “Most men don’t care about your number, but the second they find out you were a prostitute for three months, they react like you’re carrying the plague. The drugs make it worse.”

“Do you regret what happened?”

“After therapy and paying for an autopsy, no. He was gone before we even got there.” He drops his head to the wall and shuts his eyes. “I just didn’t think it would follow me into the one relationship I care about. But I guess I should have expected as much when all of your friends work at the police station.”

Shiro laughs softly and leans forward, kissing Keith. “I love you.”

Keith chokes up, tears falling immediately. “You don’t have to. I know I’m a lot to handle.”

“As if I’m not? Baby, we all have our baggage, but we grow from who we were when we created it.” He wicks away Keith’s budding tears. “Who you are now matters more to me than anything else. This Keith in front of me is the one I love. The man who visits his mother and pays her bills because he’s a good son. The man who’s strong when people belittle and undermine him and uses the spare room to kickbox his anger away. The man who takes care of me and makes sure that no matter what I’m doing, I’m happy.” Shiro kisses him again. “Baby, you’re so selfless. It hurts me to see you doubt the goodness in you. You’re worth the baggage. No matter how traumatic.”

Dropping the tray of rolls, Keith climbs onto Shiro’s lap, kissing him feverishly. He pulls back, panting a little. “I’ve been sober for three years and I get checked once a month.” He kisses Shiro again and grinds down. “I’m clean, so don’t worry about last night.”

“You know I’ve always trusted you.” Shiro tugs at the waistband of Keith’s pants and plants his palm in the center of his sternum, holding him against the wall as he bends down to take Keith into his mouth. Keith shudders and whines, hips twitching as Shiro swallows down more of him.

Shiro feels a little out of practice as he bobs his head on Keith’s cock, but the sounds coming from his boyfriend destroy any of his insecurities. He slides his hand down Keith’s torso and between his thighs, the tip of his index pressing into Keith’s hole.

Groaning, Keith drops a hand to Shiro’s hair, petting him as he sucks down. He likes being touched while being blown, but as Shiro sinks his finger deeper, Keith becomes overwhelmed. He gasps and finishes far faster than he planned for.

Shiro glances up at him, lips dripping. He maintains eye contact, staring Keith down as his tongue peeks out, cleaning up what didn’t make it down his throat.

Keith whimpers, “I love you.”

Smirking, Shiro grabs him by the waist and rolls him onto the cold tile floor. “Show me.”

 

That evening, Keith regrets covering the shift of a co-worker. He was much happier in Shiro’s embrace and with Shiro between his thighs. Not to mention the fact that he’s unfamiliar with the routine he has to perform. Someone runs through the show with him and at the end reassures him that if he forgets his steps, to just gyrate in place and follow the lead of the others.

The show is miserable. He thought he would be the worst, not knowing the steps, but the lead dancer trips and tries to play it off cool by rolling onto his back and humping the air. Keith has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing at the display.

As he’s exiting the stage, his manager pulls him aside. “You’ve been requested for a private dance in ten minutes. He wants you to wear something purple.”

Keith nods, frowning as he heads back to change, so much for this night being simple tips. He takes his time picking an outfit and settles on a lavender V-neck and deep purple spandex shorts. Before heading to the private rooms, Keith stops by the host’s desk, asking what song his patron requested.

She makes a sour face. “He didn’t want a song.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Keith ducks his head to the left, pretending to shake something out of his ear. “Did I hear that right? No song?”

“Yep.”

“So like, he’s paying twenty-five bucks for five minutes of me dancing to no music whatsoever?”

“Correct.”

He grimaces. “That’s a first.”

She shrugs. “Good luck.”

He’ll need it if it’s solid silence between him and a stranger. Keith enters the room and checks the side mirror, tucking his hair behind his ears and brushing down the front of his shirt, trying to look as presentable as possible.

When there’s a knock at the door, he invites them in, turning when he hears the sound of a body sitting in the available chair. His heart stops before his pulse thrums into overdrive.

“Lotor.”

The man gives him a gentle smile, but despite the ease of his actions, Keith doesn’t feel calm.

His voice is delicate and agreeable, “It’s so lovely to see you Keith. I’ve been waiting so long to have you notice me again.”

“Again? I-I haven’t seen you in over a month.”

Lotor shifts in his seat, reaching into his back pocket, and Keith stumbles away out of fear. The man chuckles softly and offers a stack of photos to Keith. “But I’ve seen you.”

With unsteady hands, Keith takes the pictures, flipping through them slowly. They’re all of him: Keith by Shiro’s side at the hospital, the first time he drove Shiro to physical therapy, the grocery store, an afternoon walk in the park, their visit to Krolia’s house, and the one that chills his blood – a shot of him and Shiro on the kitchen floor from that afternoon.

Lotor’s tone remains polite, but his words are menacing. “I have people, you see. People who do anything I ask, and these people are watching you.”

The blood drains from Keith’s face. “Why?”

“Because I need you to do me a favor.” He folds his hands. “Your boyfriend arrested my father and knows the inner workings of his business very well. I need _you_ to keep him out of the police station. If they welcome him back, discourage him from returning. I don’t need a man like Takashi Shirogane coming down on my operation and ruining the one chance I have to step outside of my father’s shadow.”

Keith’s voice is tight. “And if I don’t?”

“Officer Shirogane is a committed man.” Lotor leans forward and plucks a picture from the stack, the one of Shiro and Keith being intimate. “He cares deeply for you, and I wouldn’t put it past him to endanger his life to try and save you.” Lotor smirks. “After all, he’s done that once already. If you don’t do what I ask, and he ends up back on the force, I will come for you and Shirogane will come for me. He’ll be struck down without mercy and you will watch as he takes his last breath, that I promise you.”

Dropping the photos into Lotor’s awaiting hands, Keith shudders. “He loves me, but he doesn’t listen all the time.”

“Make him listen or he will die for it.” He clears his throat, “But enough business.” Lotor pats his thigh. “Come here, I paid for services and I expect you to deliver.”

Keith scoffs. “You threaten the man I love and still assume I’ll give you a lap dance?”

Lotor pulls his phone from the inside of his coat, unlocking it and typing something. Almost instantly, it dings with a response. He turns it around and Keith gasps. It’s a picture of Shiro’s house. The curtains aren’t drawn so it’s easy to see Shiro laying on the couch, book in hand. Lotor swipes the picture aside, to a near identical one, the difference being a man with a rifle standing in front of the door.

“He’s waiting for orders.”

Keith lets out a shaky breath and steps forward as Lotor puts his phone away.

He puts his hand out. “Shirt off.”

“But-” Keith shuts his mouth when Lotor reaches for the phone. He pulls his shirt off and drops it behind him. Nausea washes over him when Lotor grabs his hips and drags him down to sit on his lap.

“Just think, Keith. If you don’t do what I ask, Shirogane will die and you can be my pet.” He grabs a fistful of Keith’s hair, yanking his head back and exposing his throat, licking a long stripe up the side. He smirks when Keith chokes back a sob. “Maybe I should kill him anyway and take you now.”

Keith opens his mouth to beg him not to, but a knock at the door and a warning that they’re past time interrupts his plea. Lotor huffs and shoves Keith off his lap, watching as the man lands on the floor with a hard thump.

“Remember, you’re responsible for Officer Shirogane’s life now. Don’t mess it up.”

With that, Lotor saunters out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, also, also - if you have any questions, find me on tumblr @starlightshirogane - I'd be happy to chat :)


End file.
